


Wheel of the Year

by Eliot_L



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Dream Symbolism, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Medium Angst, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8753143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliot_L/pseuds/Eliot_L
Summary: Four windows into a relationship.





	1. Winter

_Thank goodness the fireplace actually works_ , Cady thought, straightening the new curtains in her drafty office. Snow had started to pile up on the windowsills, making her glad that the legal aid center’s inaugural Christmas party had already happened yesterday — she didn’t want to be responsible for making sure the rest of her staff made it home in this weather. She was alone in the little house, attending to all the odd tasks that she hadn’t completed during the week, grateful for the quiet.

She gathered up some files from her inbox, leafing through them to see which ones she needed to make copies of. The door opened and she heard someone tap the snow off their shoes, honestly surprised that it had taken this long for someone to mistakenly assume the legal aid center was open today. Calling out some half-explanation-half-apology, she stepped carefully around her desk and leaned through the doorway. The sight of Jacob Nighthorse brushing snow from his wool coat almost made her laugh, probably something to do with the dusting of snowflakes still caught in his hair. She stuck her hands in her pockets, tempted out of all reason to sweep them away before they melted.

Jacob removed his gloves and looked over the empty office. “I see you gave everyone the day off.” She couldn’t tell from his neutral tone of voice whether he disapproved of her executive decision, or was just observing.

“Well, we had our office Christmas thing yesterday, and half the staff was going to take today off anyway, so.” She shrugged and returned to her office to finish her task. The hum and whirr of the copier filled the lull between them.

Following behind her, Jacob looked up, then pointedly at Cady. “Trying to scare up a few harassment suits to fill your spare time?” He indicated the decoration on the lintel of the doorway.

Not for the first time, she noticed that the sprig of mistletoe had been put back in her office, and she gave Jacob an apologetic smile. “That? No, I think it’s Mandy’s attempt at subtlety in matchmaking.” She continued sorting the pages in her hands. “She didn’t… have anyone in mind, or anything, she’s just —“ Cady shrugged, at a loss to explain her assistant’s logic.

“Showing initiative?” He placed his briefcase on top of a filing cabinet and leaned against it while he watched her putter about the office, an inquisitive half-smile on his face.

“Yeah, something like that.” She put another set of documents in the copier. “So, did you just stop by to wish us all a Merry Christmas?”

Jacob’s briefcase clicked open. “Not the only reason. I came to drop off the year-end bonus checks in person, but I guess you’ll have to hand them out on Monday. Unless that’s another unofficial holiday,” he said, handing Cady a small stack of envelopes. She toyed with a sarcastic remark, perhaps invoking Ebenezer Scrooge, but in the end just shook her head. “Yours is in there too,” he said, turning back to his open briefcase, “but I thought that was a little impersonal, so… I got you something else as well.” She looked up from locking her center desk drawer, smiling in mild surprise as she took a small red-wrapped package from his hand. From the weight and dimensions, it was most likely a book. She wasn’t sure why she felt so relieved. Perhaps because his other gift — or gifts, if she counted the legal aid center itself — had turned out a bit more complicated than she’d thought.

“I feel bad now, I didn’t get you anything.” She wrinkled her brow and gave him a regretful look which he dismissed with a half-smile and a shake of his head.

“I didn’t expect you to. Besides, there’s everything you do here,” he said, gesturing vaguely around the office.

“Yeah, that’s… kind of what you pay me for.” An idle fragment of her mind raced, trying to think of anything that might have made an appropriate gift for him. A plant, perhaps, although she knew that was a cop-out. He was so self-contained, which she supposed was part of what fascinated her. Apart from his professional life, which was mysterious enough, she found that she knew far less about him than she’d like.

“Not everything’s a transaction, Cady,” he replied. Momentarily worried that she had seemed ungrateful, she looked down at her desk.

“Do you — should I open it now, or wait?”

“Up to you.” Unable to resist the lure of wrapping paper, she slid one finger carefully under the tape on the end of the package until it tore free. Inside was a smooth, navy-blue paperback bearing a faded white feather on the front cover along with the title: _Ceremony_. The back cover’s endorsements read like a Who’s Who of Native American literature. She was intrigued. “I read it at an… impressionable time in my life. Thought you might find it interesting.”

“Thank you.” She ran her hand over the soft, matte cover. “I’m sure I will.”

He shut his briefcase, slid it off of its perch and strolled towards the door. Intending to follow behind and lock up after him, Cady turned around the corner of her desk a bit too fast, stopping short and nearly colliding with him in the doorway. Feeling the support of the doorjamb behind her, she looked over at Jacob, first awkwardly, then matching his curious, playful expression. Neither of them moved, and Cady noticed how the remaining snow had melted into a shimmer of water droplets on the shoulder of his coat. Her eyes darted up to the cluster of green hanging above them, and she fluttered her eyelashes ironically, unable to keep her mouth from curling up into an impish grin. Jacob looked as though he was formulating an objection, thoughtfully running phrases through his mind, but at some point he seemed to settle his thoughts, studying her with a keen, angled gaze. She, too, had resolved on this most unlikely act, and moved haltingly towards him, still trying to give him ample room to turn aside at the last moment. It would probably turn out to be a perfunctory, even grudging contact, in any case, she thought as they drew towards each other with gravitational inevitability.

Her eyes shut of their own accord, and she noticed at first how his lips had the same smooth, powdery slipperiness of a new book’s cover. As the reality of the kiss dawned on her, she felt herself soften and lean in, his hand at the side of her face a warm and tacit consent. It made plain what had until that moment been carried by symbols, by long, quiet looks, and by trusting confessions. She heard her own breath between kisses, noticeable in the close space they had created, and smelled some clean, unidentified scent, ironed cloth and snow and skin. The gentle, exploratory pressure of his mouth on hers felt like it hid a restrained eagerness, although Cady thought later that she might’ve been projecting.

Jacob’s fingertips traced down the side of her neck, coming to rest at her collarbone, his thumb casually fitting the hollow at the base of her throat.As if a secret door had opened suddenly in front of her, she drew back, blushing, watchful. His face showed only that he hid his shock better than she did, although not completely. He stepped out of the doorway into the front room, staring at the dying fire, buttoning his coat. “Well,” he said at length, and a knowing look passed between them, Cady still a bit wide-eyed, Jacob more apprehending. “Don’t work too late, the roads are getting treacherous.”

After he left, she watched by the door for a few minutes, clouding the thin glass with her breath, wondering whether that had really just happened.

*  *  *

At home, Cady had thoroughly ensconced herself in seasonal coziness. She’d taken Jacob’s sage advice and left the office before the storm hit its stride, and had spent the last few hours listening to all of her Christmas CDs on repeat and wrapping presents for her extended family. She’d even put on pajamas, conceding that she probably wouldn’t leave the house until tomorrow. Presents wrapped and dinner eaten, she had settled herself in front of the television with a mug of hot cocoa and a blanket, watching an old favorite.

All evening, she’d been absently checking her phone, trading greetings with out-of-town friends and watching the occasional video of someone’s cat being a little too curious about the tree. She’d been successful at controlling her impulse to call Jacob, to chase down the mystery and spell everything out. It never worked, although it annoyed her to have to act like prey in this peculiar game; she didn’t do well with uncertainty. So when her phone rang and the screen showed his name, she felt strange, like she had dialed his number without knowing, betrayed by her subconscious. She paused the movie and picked up, reminding herself that phones didn’t work that way (yet).

“Jacob. Hi.” Nine-thirty on a holiday weekend was a little late for business, she thought, although it wouldn’t be out of character.

“Hey.” She tried to read something into his customarily smooth tone of voice, but it wasn’t much to go on. “I just wanted to make sure you made it home okay.”

“I did, yeah. Thanks. It wasn’t too bad, I left about a half hour after you did.”

“Good, I’m glad. I imagine with this weather, you didn’t spend the rest of the day doing any last-minute Christmas shopping.”

“No, no. I left all my wrapping for today, though, so it was kind of a full afternoon.”

“Let me guess, now you’re curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine and a plate of cookies, watching _It’s a Wonderful Life._ ” She could hear a warm grin of vicarious pleasure in his voice underneath the gentle mockery, and it made her laugh, glad to be able to dismiss the awkwardness between them for a moment.

“Alright, not a bad guess, but no cookies, hot cocoa and _The Lion in Winter_ , thank you very much.”

She heard a hum of recognition. “Very high-culture of you. I always forget that’s set at Christmas.”

“Technically. It’s so cynical, though, I can never get anyone to watch it with me in season.” A lull formed between them, and Cady figured this was as good a chance as any to clear up potential misunderstandings. “Listen, I should apologize for this afternoon, I know that was completely unprofessional and inappropriate of me, and if it made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

Silence as Jacob composed his response. “I’ve got at least an equal share of the blame there, especially if I… made more of your gesture than you intended.”

“No,” Cady countered, reassuring. “No, that was — accurate, I guess. Just unexpected.”

“Yeah,” he sighed in tentative resignation. In the brief pause, Cady assumed they were both sorting out their thoughts on the matter.

“Good, though,” she prompted, a question lurking in her voice.

“Very.” She wondered at Jacob’s ability to imbue one word with such inviting warmth and depth.

She nestled into the cushions behind her with smiling satisfaction. “So, no regrets, then?”

“Well. I suppose I’d regret if it never happened again, but I’d survive. If you think it would compromise your ethics… I’d rather not lose you as a professional ally in the long term.” This sounded well-considered, and Cady wondered whether he was right, that this would compromise her somehow. He wasn’t a client, though, and since she was already running the legal aid center, she could hardly be accused of sleeping her way to the top. If she found herself going easier on him as a defendant — here, she was reminded of several pending cases involving the casino — well, she found the notion unlikely, but she’d cross that bridge when she got there. “If that’s the way it needs to be, I can accept it.”

She found this a charming gesture of good faith, which only encouraged her. “It doesn’t, I don’t think. I’d really like to… see where this goes.” Not the most eloquent response, but she hoped it got the point across.

“You know, I’m tempted to ask if you wouldn’t mind some company this evening,” Jacob said, echoing a thought that had also sprung to Cady’s mind, “but with the roads the way they are — and I think we both have busy weekends ahead of us, it’s probably not great timing.” Maddeningly practical, but she had to admit she agreed. “Why don’t you let me take you to dinner sometime, after the chaos has died down?”

She was amused by this formality, unsure whether it was a generational difference, a gesture of respect, or some of both. “I’d like that.”

“I look forward to it, then.” They both seemed to rest in this decision for a moment, a saddle-point in the graph, temporary stability while they said their hesitant goodnights, edges roughened by new and uncertain intimacy.

After she hung up, Cady stretched out to her full length on the couch, feeling the slight weight of the phone against her heart, staring at the ceiling as the waves of her worries crashed in on her anew. On the one hand, had she just scuttled her entire legal career? What was she thinking, willingly throwing herself into this kind of conflict of interest? On the other, what if everything her father had told her about Jacob Nighthorse was true, and this was just another step towards becoming inextricably complicit in his criminal activities? Or even if he was innocent, wouldn’t this be just the excuse the sheriff needed to find some bias-driven reason to put him in jail, or worse?

Unable to answer her own questions, she attempted to clear them from her mind with another woman’s story. She’d stopped the film in the middle of a bitterly sarcastic monologue by the aging Eleanor of Aquitaine to her three scheming sons, and Cady generally appreciated the irony. Tonight, however, it fell on her ear with a more sincere resonance.

 _“—_ _can't we love one another just a little? That's how peace begins. We have so much to love each other for. We have such possibilities, my children. We could change the world.”_


	2. Spring

Cady looked out the airport window at the sheeting rain, phone to her ear, until Jacob finally picked up.

“Hey, how was your flight?” She could hear the low murmur and occasional bell of the casino floor in the background.

“Not over yet, sadly, that’s why I’m calling.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, I’m still waiting to change planes in Salt Lake. They said they’d start boarding us in twenty minutes, but that was… forty-five minutes ago.”

“Hmm. I guess you won’t be back until late, then.”

“Sorry.” Cady had been looking forward to a little decompression time after her trip, including a slow dinner and possibly a hot bath, but the weather was not cooperating. She propped her feet on her rolling suitcase. “Even if they start boarding us now, I don’t think I’ll get in until around midnight.”

She could hear a little sigh of disappointment on his end, and noticed that the background had quieted. “I imagine I’ll be asleep. Text me if you do end up going back to your place, just to let me know you made it home safe.”

Cady was charmed by this little protective gesture. “Sure, of course.”

“You know you’re always welcome at mine. Just let yourself in.” This recent development still felt strange and untried, and she noticed her heart speed up a bit. After three months of whatever-it-was between them, Jacob had given her a spare key — or more accurately, left it on the nightstand one morning with a cryptic note about an early meeting — but they hadn’t really discussed it further. She was torn between the knowledge that this was another step on a very unwise path for both of them, and her own curious desire to see where they would end up.

She looked around at the crowded airport lounge, noting the empty service desk. “Oh, you know, I wouldn’t want to wake you.”

“What makes you think I’d mind?” The lupine sultriness in Jacob’s voice filled her with secret warmth, and she grinned, responding with a thoughtful hum. The moment passed without further comment, though; perhaps he didn’t want to sway her decision. “So. How was the wedding?”

“It was beautiful, actually. I loved Catalina, I’d never been out there before. The weather was gorgeous, I got to see a bunch of people I hadn’t seen since law school, the grooms both wrote their own vows and made _everyone_ cry, not just me, there was a pig roast on the beach, it was all very… it was very _them_.” Cady gave a little sigh of pleasure at the memory. “I wish you’d been there with me.”

She thought she could hear some tension in his silence, in the deliberately-offhand way he spoke. “Sounds lovely. Might not have been so idyllic if you’d had to spend part of the afternoon explaining me to your friends, I suppose.”

Sometimes she wondered which of them he was trying to protect with this sort of pessimism. “What’s to explain? I mean, Matt’s my age, and his new husband’s got to be pushing fifty.”

“Hmm. Dynamic’s a bit different in our case, don’t you think?” Cady didn’t relish having this discussion now, especially given that she agreed with him. Still, it was only one of a long list of things that made their relationship unlikely, and a pretty minor one by comparison. “I did miss you for the entire two days you were gone, if that’s what you were after.”

She rolled her eyes, but appreciated the change of subject. “Constant pining, I assume? Barely able to get any work done?”

“The casino is collapsing around my ears as we speak, I’m thinking of filing for bankruptcy. You don’t know any good lawyers, do you?” She laughed, imagining a gleam in his eye and a half-suppressed smile. She treasured Jacob’s occasional willingness to play along with her attempts at light-hearted wit, these glimpses beneath his controlled facade of seriousness.

Loud, familiar words over the PA caught her attention, and the people around her stirred from their seats. “I think they’re finally boarding us, I should go.”

“See you soon, Cady. Safe travels.”

As she pulled her suitcase behind her towards the gathering crowd, she turned the conversation over in her mind, weighing words against actions. Wondering, not for the first time, what they were to each other, and whether it matched what she wanted them to be. She still hadn’t been able to figure that last part out.

***

The level of exhaustion Cady felt after traveling always perplexed her — after all, hadn’t she just spent the last six hours essentially sitting still in various modes of transportation, not to mention several airports? She was glad to finally park her car at the end of the long driveway, rolling her suitcase through the noisy gravel of the courtyard. Her key turned smoothly, and she entered the silent house through the great room, where she could feel the substantial stone fireplace still radiating heat. She left the suitcase by the door with her jacket over it, slipping off her boots and padding in stocking feet down the hallway to the last door but one.

She undressed in the near-absolute darkness of the bedroom, piling her clothes haphazardly on a chair that she more sensed than saw. Listening for the sound of quiet breathing, she found her way to the empty side without barking her shin on the bed frame, a rarer success than she would like to admit. She slipped under the covers and reached a tentative hand across to Jacob’s sleeping form, then slid over the cool expanse of linen until she was perfectly fitted to his body, creating a long line of warmth between them. Cady sighed with relief, feeling her mind finally, _finally_ settle from its constant spinning.

Despite the hour, though, she wasn’t ready for sleep just yet. The agonizing realness of Jacob’s skin against hers wasn’t helping matters — no matter how she had configured the mountain range of pillows in her lonely hotel bed, it never satisfied. She wrapped her free arm around him, placing her hand just below his ribcage, feeling his breath rise and fall. She nestled closer, willing herself to be content with this, to be still, and failing utterly. She pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to his shoulder, to the side of his head where his hair was trimmed close to the scalp, to the sensitive place behind his ear where she could feel the bones of his skull just under the skin. She rested her forehead against him, giving a little sigh of resigned frustration, when she heard his breath suddenly deepen, and felt him lazily intertwine his fingers with hers.

“Hey, you’re awake,” she whispered with the sly smile of wickedness rewarded. He turned halfway towards her, disentangling and re-entangling their limbs into some figure that passed for momentary comfort.

“Mmm, I doubt it,” he said, sounding like he was stifling a yawn. He ran one hand up the length of her arm, brushing her hair back from her face. She leaned down to kiss him, a halting coordination in the lightless room. “I’ve been having some… vivid dreams, though,” he said, sleepily wrapping his arms around her as she stretched out her full length against his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

Cady laughed. “What happens in them?”

He stroked her hair, his voice slow and resonant. “I dreamt that a young vixen got into the house from the woods somehow, and I found her curled up in my bed.” She smiled against his skin, sensing a metaphor. “After I fell asleep —“

“You fell asleep in your dream?”

“Shh, I’m telling this story,” he said, kissing the top of her head for emphasis. “In the morning, she’d been transformed into a beautiful, red-haired warrior woman.”

“Ah, really.” She didn’t really believe he had dreamt something so straightforward, but she was willing to follow the narrative to what seemed like its logical conclusion. “Sounds dangerous. Was she armed?” Her voice was a smirking half-whisper as she passed her hand down over his hipbone, the firm muscles of his thigh, drawing it up across the incipient hardness between his legs. She heard his sharp, ragged breath, and he gently removed her hand from below the covers, placing it just over his heart.

“I think you’re ignoring an important element of the dream, here, Cady.” She knew him well enough to imagine his expression, even in the dark — not unamused, but brooking no objections.

“Oh?”

His voice was quiet, secretive. “The part where both I and my… mysterious visitor get a full night’s sleep before her miraculous transformation.” She buried her face against his chest, a brief groan of disappointment in the back of her throat. There was little point in trying to cajole him once he’d made a decision, and cajoling wasn’t really her style. So she disentwined herself from Jacob’s passive embrace and lay down beside him in the quiet, waiting for sleep to arrive.

For what seemed like most of an hour, but was probably far shorter, she was unsuccessful despite the rigors of her day. She tried to keep the tossing and turning to a minimum, but after she had counted Sheep #172, she started contemplating other options, like a hot shower or retreating to the guest bedroom. Her eyes had finally adjusted, and she could barely detect the outline of Jacob’s face on the pillow next to her, his bare shoulder and arm oddly pale against the dark covers. She suppressed a last pang of skin-hunger and turned away, gently kicking back a corner of the duvet and resting her cheek against the cool underside of her pillow. Her spine seemed to radiate heat into the space between them, and Cady hoped the cool air would settle her.

As she was thinking through her schedule for tomorrow in one more attempt to bore herself towards slumber, she felt Jacob’s hand trace a long line down her exposed back. But rather than amplifying the by-now-tiresome hum of her libido, she felt overtaken by a catlike limpness. After a moment, he folded himself gently around her, nothing insistent, barely even wakeful. She felt herself unspool in his arms, and as she drifted into unconsciousness she wondered if the switch that had been thrown was some deep need of hers to be the small spoon, or if it was just time, pure coincidence.

In her dreams, she wandered through an old house, hers presumably, filled with the detritus of decades. She walked endless hallways leading to rooms whose purpose was unclear, a dusty grand piano cheek-by-jowl with a kitchen island, a bathtub neatly filled with novels she had never got around to reading. She opened doors to closets stuffed with papers, boxes, old grade-school homework of hers, children’s drawings she did not recognize. A growing certainty that she was looking for something. 

In one closet, mostly winter coats, old Christmas decorations, a pair of well-worn toddler shoes atop a long white cardboard box. That feeling of finding the looked-for object, out of nowhere, but apprehension too. Unsurprisingly, the box contained a wedding dress carefully archived in tissue paper. Something uncanny about it — heavier than it seemed. She pulled it out of the box and laid it on the floor, unzipping the high, modest back. Dream-logic dictated that what she discovered was both completely sensible and utterly horrifying: that the inside of the dress was lined with smooth, glistening fox-fur. Of course, what else did she expect? She heard the sound of far-off footsteps and was swept forward into dreamless sleep, waking suddenly hours later in much the same position she had left.

With no memory of the dream except a strange, unsettled fear, she twisted in Jacob’s arms and burrowed closer to him, needing his solidity, heat, protection against the last tendrils of night. Rosy sunlight was creeping in around the curtains of the east-facing window, and she felt her heartbeat retreat from panic, following the slow wave of Jacob’s breathing back to the waking world, the stifling warmth of the covers, the sandpaper-roughness of his face against hers reminding her that she was here, she was home. She was home.

Wasn’t she?


	3. Summer

A rare lazy Sunday between them, and Cady bustled through the kitchen with a nervous edge. “Something on your mind?” Jacob gingerly turned an omelet in the pan, trying to make his query unthreatening.

“Nope.” He wasn’t buying it, and by the way she looked at him over her coffee, neither was she. “You know. The usual.” The sheriff’s recent close call in the field had left her shaken, and it was only Friday that he’d returned to work from sick leave. Jacob knew things would soon settle — until the next incident, of course. Not for the first time, he found himself thinking how Walt’s grumpy, rule-bound attitude and love of literature would have made him better suited to librarianship than law enforcement; a path he would have preferred for Cady’s sake, if not for his own convenience. He was content to let her process this at her own pace. They both knew any reassurances would ring hollow for a variety of reasons.

He split the omelet down the middle and slid it onto two plates, one of which Cady spirited away with her to the porch off of the great room, where there was still some shade at this hour. Quietly noting her forgetfulness, he tucked two forks in the back pocket of his jeans before heading out to join her.

She was just sitting down at the broad, slatted wooden table as she realized what was missing. “No no, sit, I’m way ahead of you,” Jacob admonished, passing her a fork. She accepted it with sheepish thanks. “It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re a better lawyer than you are a waitress.”

Cady smiled around a bite of omelet, covering her mouth with her hand. “Yeah, so’s Henry.” He was glad to see her mood lighten, even if temporarily.

Over breakfast, they gossiped about work, mutual friends, local politics, skating around the obvious. Jacob suggested hiking down by the river in the afternoon, but Cady demurred, saying that she didn’t have the shoes for it — here, anyway. He didn’t remark on the inconvenience of maintaining two houses — he valued his solitude too much to go down that road at present — but he filed the thought away for later contemplation.

At a lull, Cady drew a deep breath, looking down at her empty plate. “So here’s the thing. If my dad _was_ killed in the line of duty, or had a heart attack or something, I mean, things happen, he’s not —” She paused and changed tracks, but not before Jacob could hear that last, unspoken word in her sentence: _young_. They looked at each other for a second and Jacob tensed his jaw, hoping not to revisit a conversation he thought they had already put to bed for good. “I don’t think you and I would — I couldn’t keep doing this.” She tucked one bare foot up underneath her, nervously stretching her body as she searched for words. “Every day it would remind me of how I kept this a secret from him, and it would just feel wrong. I don’t think I could live that way, to be honest. It’s too important — _you’re_ too important… to me. I’m not just passing time here.” She looked away, squinting in the sunlight that had crept over the edge of the table. The first few weeks of summer had given her some healthy color, but he could see that underneath it, she was drawn and worried. “If you are, though, I get it. I’m kind of a big risk.”

In response to this, Jacob did not sweep the dishes from the table between them, lay Cady across it and show her in quite visceral terms how little interest he had in ‘passing time,’ although the thought did occur to him. He didn’t even feel a customary flare of rage at her father’s mistaken vendetta. He ran his thumb across his lower lip, pensively considering what she had said. The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. He gathered up their empty dishes, pointing at her coffee cup with an inquisitive glance.

She wrapped her hands around it possessively. “Is there any more inside?”

“Should be.” He saw the unquiet edge in her eyes, but his own troubled thoughts won out, and he walked back to the kitchen, handling the dishes with restrained care and precision. When she came in to get another cup of coffee, he saw a cautious curiosity about her that made him feel exposed. He passed by her, one hand on her arm meant to be reassuring. “I’m going for a run, back in a bit.” He headed towards the bedroom to change, but her voice echoed after him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” She stood at the end of the hall with a stern but somewhat mournful look on her face. “Whatever I said to make you angry, after you figure it out are you going to tell me? Because if you know what it is already, I wish you’d just say so.”

“Important because of what I am to _you_ , or because of what I am to _him_?” The moment the sharp words left his mouth he knew they were unwise, unworthy of him, but her insecure question caught against his own buried, complicated jealousy and came out in ill-considered ire. She looked away, pained, crossing her arms. He sighed, putting one hand on the wall of the hallway beside them and one on his hip, his voice patient but firm. “I’m not angry, Cady. I just need to clear my head.”

Putting her hands in her back pockets, she looked somewhat chastened, which hadn’t been his intention. “Fine, of course,” she shook her head and walked back to the kitchen. Things were close to the surface for both of them today, apparently.

He exchanged his Sunday jeans and t-shirt for a pair of shorts and a shirt in some high-tech fabric, slipping on trail running shoes and leaving his loose-banded metal watch on the bedside table. He stretched his achilles tendons briefly against the wall, feeling out an old injury in his right knee. Even as fastidious as he was about his health, he still couldn’t outmaneuver time, it seemed. After downing a glass of water from the bathroom sink, he squared his shoulders and walked through the now-empty kitchen to the back door, telling himself he wasn’t deliberately avoiding Cady, just giving them both a little space with their thoughts.

As he jogged the first half-mile into the woods behind the house, he breathed in the scent of crushed pine needles under his feet, grateful for the shade. He caught sight of one of his hired security guards at the edge of the property, sticking to the perimeter today as ordered. He raised one hand in acknowledgment, not quite able to recognize the man at this distance. His pace quickened, and he pushed against the bruised place that Cady’s words had revealed. Yes, he resented being beholden to Walt Longmire’s approval, if beholden was the right term. Influenced, maybe. At the outset, he’d decided not to let the unfortunate facts of her parentage matter to him. She, obviously, hadn’t made the same choice, but perhaps she couldn’t. Family was strange that way.

Had he intended to keep things between them under wraps forever, then? In combination with her age, this idea made the whole thing seem rather tawdry, and he felt the keen edge of self-loathing. One more rich, older man with a young and brilliant mistress who would tire of him eventually. Seven months really wasn’t enough time to guarantee that this wasn’t the case, for all her denials. He rounded a corner and the trail became slightly steeper. Was his relationship with Cady worth the trouble if it brought him into open conflict with her father? _As if it’s not open conflict now_ , he thought. It would complicate things in ways he couldn’t entirely predict, that much was certain. He kept running, mentally playing out the possibilities. He could tolerate losing her if it was on his terms — he could tolerate damn near anything if it was on his terms.

As the trail turned back downhill, he felt an unevenness in his step, a rock or tree root that he hadn’t noticed, and he lost his footing, tumbling hard on the ground and nearly skidding into a cedar next to the path. Surprised by his own carelessness, he lay in the dappled sunlight for a moment, taking inventory of any new or troubling pain. No, thankfully, he wouldn’t have to limp the last mile or so back to the house in shame, and the only damage he detected was an ugly scrape along his elbow and probably some bruising where he had hit the ground. A lucky thing. He looked back up the trail and thought he could make out the shadow of the unexpected stone jutting out of the path. It wouldn’t do to let himself get over-cautious, the extra tension made for poor form and inefficiencies. He brushed himself off and walked back down the hill, shaking out his limbs briefly before resuming his prior pace.

He just didn’t like handing Walt a gift-wrapped excuse to have one more wrong-headed opinion about him. Maybe it was as simple as that. And if that’s all it was, well, he wouldn’t scruple to tell the sheriff exactly where he could put those opinions. If Cady thought she could keep the peace by charm or force of will — he had no doubt she would try — on her own head be it. He sympathized with her, and in the privacy of his own mind could even admit that he loved her with a force and a fire that surprised him sometimes, but reality demanded a certain detachment that was his stock in trade. He ran faster through the field behind the house, trying to burn off the last of his uncertainty, and as he neared the fenced-off stone cairn at the edge of the backyard proper he saw Cady performing a slow, even backstroke across the pool, her red hair stark against the light-blue water. He cut through the copse of spruces next to the porch, at first intending to give her a wide berth, but thinking better of it, he strolled back towards the pool through the recently-mown grass.

“How’s the water?” She paused in her progress, treading water in the deep end.

“Refreshing. You should come in.” Her voice was equivocal, not quite meaning the invitation.

He tilted his head and smiled thinly in response. “Not really dressed for it. You planning to be out here long?”

“No, I guess not.” She swam over towards the ladder, and Jacob picked up her towel from the back of a wooden chair. Water sheeted off of her as she walked towards him, her paleness accentuated by the mint green one-piece that she had taken to keeping here. He unfolded the towel for her, careful not to be too open in his admiration. Still, he knew she wasn’t entirely guileless, and he wondered whether she had meant her present appearance to subtly underline the idea: _this is what you’d be missing._ She squeezed the water from her hair and wrapped the towel around herself. “How was your run? Oh, hey, what happened there?” She pointed to the abrasion on his arm that he had almost forgotten, hissing in sympathy.

“Tripped over something. Lost in thought, you know.” The look he gave her told her not to press the issue.

“Should I be worried?”

 _When is the answer to that question ever ‘yes,’_ he wondered, but he supposed he owed her a little reassurance after snapping earlier. “I don’t think so.” He traced a remaining drop of water from the end of her collarbone down her shoulder, spreading his hand out over her chilly flesh. It was, as she had said, a refreshing contrast, although the suddenness of her cold hand under his shirt made him gasp with surprise. She tasted vaguely of chlorine, and pressed herself against him as if to absorb heat. He was more than willing to part with that, but her hands had lost their chill and were having an effect on him that was — well, not unexpected, if he was honest. “We should take this inside, somewhere a little less observed, hmm?” He darted his eyes away from her face, indicating the tree line behind them. He trusted his security staff, but he wasn’t keen to test their discretion. Disengaging from her embrace, he headed back up towards the house.

Behind him, her mocking voice was soft enough to ignore if he’d wanted to, but loud enough that he could hear the smile in it. “Prude.”

He stepped aside, letting her catch up and responding with a devilish grin. “Oh, now, don’t toss that gauntlet if you don’t mean it.” He slid one finger under the strap of her swimsuit briefly, something Cady could take as either a threat or a promise.

Her broad, responsive laugh was quickly quieted by thought. “I do, but we should probably talk first.”

“Agreed.” He held the door open for her, noting the rush of cool air from inside.

She stopped to shed her slippers by the door and wrapped the towel more tightly around her against the mild air-conditioning. “I can just use the guest bath, if you…”

“No, I should stay outside and stretch for a few minutes, or I’ll regret it later. Give you a head start.” Something about the domesticity of the exchange felt freighted with meaning, and Jacob shut the door between them without waiting for Cady’s response.

***

“So.” Cady settled herself in a chair in front of the cold fireplace. “Now that you’ve had time to think about it.” She shrugged one shoulder inquisitively, watching him as he sat on the raised stone hearth across from her, absently rubbing his palms together.

He let the silence stretch between them for a moment, no longer. She deserved an answer. “You’re right.” Her face softened at this, but the uncertainty in her eyes showed that she knew this wasn’t the whole story. “If I was in your shoes, I’d want the same thing. I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of this, or… unserious.” He looked pointedly at her. “As a rule, I’m not interested in getting anyone’s consent but yours, and in this case I don’t see that it’s anyone else’s business. I take your point, though.” He drew a breath, watching the tension unfold from Cady’s form. “Secrecy has given this an air of taboo that has, perhaps, overstayed its welcome.” This was as close to an apology as he planned to get, and he hoped it would soften the impact of what he had to say next. “However, it might’ve shielded us from worse things than paternal disapproval.” She tilted her chin down, narrowing her eyes and waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Your dad’s not the only, or even the most dangerous enemy I’ve made in my life, Cady. I’m not proud of that fact, but I want to be honest about the risks involved here.”

Puzzled amusement showed in her expression. “So, what, does that mean you’re going to send one of your Secret Service guys to trail around after me?” She raised an eyebrow, using a joking epithet to describe the team of bodyguards that Jacob had hired. Her face fell with a sudden realization. “Oh my God, you already have, haven’t you? That’s what that car with the tinted windows is doing across the street from my office.”

He met her look of dismay with resolve, not denying her assertion, daring her to make any real objection. “I’m not passing time here either.”

“Wow.” She stood up and paced a few steps, gathering her thoughts. “I have to say, I’m not thrilled about the fact that you didn’t tell me.” Her voice was more shocked than irate, and her brows drew together in concern as she sat down next to him. “Is this what it’s going to be like, then? Just… always? Is your life really that dangerous?”

“I hope not, but it may take a while. Things will calm down eventually.” He put one hand on her shoulder, an attempt at reassurance. She leaned towards him, but her face showed no comfort. “I can protect you if necessary, and I will, but it’s better at this point that your eyes are open.”

“Well, they are now,” she sighed. She straightened her spine and gave him a rueful little smile. Time and circumstance had allowed him to see the slow stripping-back of Cady’s innocence to reveal the strength beneath. There was something to that, he thought, something measured and seasonal that he welcomed, but didn’t want to rush. He stroked a strand of hair back from her face, wondering if she had changed him, _would_ change him, in some analogous way.

“On a less life-threatening note, reservation gossip mill’s gonna go from zero to sixty on this pretty fast. Might not be pleasant.” _For either of us_ , he thought.

Cady covered her eyes with one hand and cringed. “I guess I’ll have Mandy screen my calls for a while, she’s feisty. Not too diplomatic, though.”

Jacob scoffed, raising his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that’s for sure.” He wished he had the same luxury, but political realities being what they were, he probably never would.

“So,” Cady mused, entwining her fingers with his, “what would you like to do with your last day of relative anonymity?”

“I thought we could take the horses out after the heat clears a bit, maybe up to the top of the ridge and back.” He raised her hand to his lips, giving her a sidelong glance. “See if there’s anything to this exhibitionism of yours, or if you’re all talk.”

She laughed, meeting his gaze with an impish gleam of her own. “You know, I’m perfectly happy in that big, comfortable bed.” She stood, but he kept a firm grip on her hand, pulling her back down to sit astride his lap. “Or here, for that matter,” she whispered, running her hand alongside his face before kissing him, full and familiar. As he gathered her closer, he thought what an insidious lie that phrase was — they would both be bored senseless by ‘perfectly happy.’ He wanted Cady in all her imperfect, driven, ravenous, uncertain, dangerous magnificence, with her permanently divided loyalties and her doomed heart that, even if things went impossibly well, he would no doubt break by dying first. He reasoned that she’d seen enough of the world by now to make her own choices.


	4. Autumn

According to Kevin Morris, who would have no reason to lie about it except perhaps to keep his talent sharp, the number of complaints Jacob Nighthorse had lodged against the Absaroka County Sheriff’s Department in the last three months was only just above average, a fact that surprised them both. Walt had kept things between himself and his closest enemy shockingly professional, and for his part, Jacob had kept back more than a few cutting remarks that he knew would rile Cady’s father. Not all of them, of course — this wasn’t peace, after all, just a ceasefire.

Jacob got out of his car in front of the cabin, frost-tipped leaves swirling around his feet. In the growing dusk, he could see a light was already on inside, and if it did not exactly fill him with dread, it lent an air of trepidation to his movements. He wouldn’t be here, walking up these rough-hewn steps, if it wasn’t the only honorable way forward. It would be easier if honor didn’t matter in this instance, and generally he didn’t have a lot of use for the concept. This was an unusual case.

It took a while for Walt to come to the door, and when he did, he wasn’t particularly welcoming. “Cady’s not here,” he said, his posture ensuring that Jacob saw the service pistol that he held low by his side.

“Yeah, I’m aware.” He wondered how long they’d have to stare at each other through the screen door before one of them finally bent. Jacob wasn’t keen to swallow his pride, but in this case the strategic gain outweighed the loss of face. “Can I come in? You can shoot me just as easily in there as out here, you know.” Walt switched the gun to his other hand and pushed the screen door open. “Though I think you’d have a tough time explaining it to Cady if you did.”

“What do you want, Jacob?” Never one to waste words, the sheriff leveled his gaze at his visitor, but not before noticing the slim black book he carried.

Jacob let a long moment pass before answering, matching his host’s stern, quiet expression. “Détente.” He held the ledger in front of him, spinning it deftly between his hands. “There’s a saying about alliances that I find… useful.” He extended the book to Walt. “Never arm your enemy.” 

The sheriff took Jacob's offering warily, immediately leafing through it. “This the evidence you refused to give me on Malachi last year? It’s too late, he’s already back in jail. Doesn’t do me much good now.” He clapped the book shut in one hand. “Besides, you always said you had nothing to do with that deal.”

“And I didn’t.” They stared warily at each other, two impassable objects. “Still, I’m sure if you had a reason to convince yourself I _was_ complicit, you could make something stick.”

“Cady put you up to this?”

“Cady doesn’t know I’m here, and she certainly doesn’t know that book exists.”

“To what do I owe this spontaneous change of heart, then?”

Jacob chose his words carefully — more carefully than usual, running his fingers over the back of the leather armchair in the middle of the room. “I’m not so… unreconstructed that I’m here to ask you for her hand, in so many words.” He watched as the color rose in Walt’s face and wondered, not for the first time, if he’d make it out of this conversation in one piece. “She and I have an understanding,” he said, briefly raising an eyebrow, “and I’d rather it didn’t make you question her loyalty.” However much Jacob tried to control the anger in his voice, he knew he hadn’t fully succeeded. Too often, he’d seen the long nights of overwork and inconsolable silences that resulted anytime Cady appeared to choose Jacob’s interests over her father’s. Even when she was nothing more than his naive-if-winsome employee, he’d hated to see her so poorly done by. “I’m sure you’ve taken every opportunity to regale her with stories of my nefarious misdeeds,” he said mockingly, “but she doesn’t seem bent on redeeming me, so far. I’ll let that stand on its own merits.”

Walt took one threatening step towards him, readjusting his grip on the pistol. “If you’ve got my daughter in some kind of trouble…”

Jacob let the phrase hang between them for a moment as he studied Walt’s face, his own showing nothing but an impassive calm. “Wow. Either you think that I’ve embroiled your only daughter in some byzantine legal impropriety so that I could compel her to accept my proposal, or you think that I’ve knocked her up.” He couldn’t help a sardonic smile at this; the usually unflappable sheriff was perilously close to being flustered by Jacob’s suggestion. “‘Trouble’ is a little euphemistic even for you. No on both counts, by the way.”

He saw the sheriff click the safety latch on his sidearm before tucking it in the back of his waistband. With his arms folded across his chest, he stared Jacob down suspiciously. Quite the image of a prospective father-in-law, he had to admit. “Can’t say as you’ll have my blessing.” Jacob acknowledged this with a nod. “And there better be an ironclad prenup.”

Jacob scoffed, incredulous that this even needed to be said. “She’s a lawyer, Walt. For God’s sake, give her some credit.” He walked out before his instinctive defense of Cady made him say something he’d regret, taking the steps two at a time in the moonless dark. The incriminating evidence was out of his hands, a potent weapon if the whim ever struck Walt to use it. The leverage he had on the sheriff, although it chilled his blood to think of Cady in this way, was far more damaging to all concerned. It was done. Take it or leave it, it was done.

He heard the screen door clatter, and Walt called out after him. “Why her?” Jacob stopped in his tracks, thinking the question either ridiculous or rhetorical. “Always thought you’d marry a Cheyenne woman.”

He took a few measured steps back towards the porch, darkly amused that Longmire had ever taken the time to speculate on his marital prospects. “Never did put much stock in blood quantum, Sheriff.” Propping one foot on the lowest step, he looked up, grateful that he was not staring down the barrel of a rifle this time. He drew out his words deliberately. “And if you think her heart’s not Cheyenne enough, well, I’ve got nothing more to say to you.”

From the look in Walt’s eyes, this had settled it between them, for now.

***

When he returned home, Cady was sitting at the kitchen counter attacking a recent issue of the Wyoming Law Review with a highlighter, halfway through a small bag of baby carrots. He removed these from her reach, kissing her briefly on the head and remarking that she’d ruin her appetite.

“What? Hey, I was hungry. Where’ve you been?”

Despite her words, she did look pleased to see him, but he was loath to establish bad habits so early, and his reply dripped with sarcasm. “Lovely to see you too, my darling. How was _your_ day?” He punctuated this by letting the refrigerator door fall closed rather abruptly, but his reproving glare wasn’t devoid of sympathy. She met his eyes for a moment, sighed, and capped her highlighter.

“Awful, if you must know.” Her shoulders drooped, and she looked a bit wired, now that he was paying attention. She’d already changed out of her work clothes into jeans and a thin sweater, bare feet propped on the rungs of the counter stool.

“Court didn’t go the way you hoped, I take it?” He hung his suit coat on the back of Cady’s seat and rolled up his sleeves, thinking about what he had on hand that would make a quick dinner.

“No, court was fine, it’s this Newett Energy class action thing. I should probably just wait and run it up the appeals ladder, but it would be _really_ satisfying to get Mayhew to decide against them. I think I could do it, too.” She had wandered over to the working side of the kitchen, and Jacob handed her a cutting board with several shallots and a knife, mostly to keep her out of trouble.“In fact, if you own any of their stock, I’d sell, because the minute I find the precedent I’m looking for, I’m gonna take ‘em to the cleaners.” He laughed warily under his breath, staying clear of Cady’s sharp gestures.

“Yeah, these days I think they call that insider trading.” In his peripheral vision, he saw Cady turn her head to smile at him conspiratorially. He wasn’t aware of anything that should trouble him in this regard, but he made a mental note to call his broker in the morning, just to be sure. He started the broiler and pulled something green and leafy from the vegetable drawer. “Speaking of the cleaners, though, I should go change before I ruin this shirt.” He removed the cutting board full of unevenly-diced shallots to the other counter while Cady washed her hands. “Don’t touch anything while I’m gone,” he said, playfully squeezing her waist with one hand as he passed.

“Hey,” Cady impudently giggled, “you better watch it, or I’ll register us for a pair of matching aprons.”

Jacob let out a bark of laughter at this. “Good, then I’ll have a spare,” he shot back as he retrieved his coat, fishing in the pocket for a small box. “I stopped by the jeweler’s on the way, they got the resizing done a day early.” Her eyes twinkled as he tossed it to her across the counter, walking off towards the bedroom before he was overtaken by sentimental pleasure at seeing her so happy.

When he returned, she was absorbed in her phone, texting someone intently and tapping the back of the ring absently against the edge of the counter. He stilled her movement, gently taking her hand in his own. “It’s heavier than I thought it would be,” she said. He ran his thumb over the setting, feeling the edges of the large-but-not-ostentatious diamond in the center. “I hope you don’t mind, I sent Henry a picture.”

“I’m surprised you hadn’t told him already. What did he think?”

Cady opened her phone, scrolling to the bottom of her conversation with Henry. “ _Congratulations! That is a big step.”_ They shared a knowing look, more patient amusement in Jacob’s eyes than Cady’s. “ _Now that I have congratulated you, I must say that things have escalated quickly. Do you think this is a good idea?_ ” It took some restraint for Jacob not to laugh at her impression of her godfather’s stern, measured way of speaking. She threw her hands up pleadingly, setting her phone on top of the temporarily-abandoned Law Review. “No, Henry, this was a completely impulsive decision that was in no way preceded by _weeks_ of discussion about how much space we take up in each other’s lives, and whether and when I want to have kids, and all the professional ethics issues this raises, and why I need to keep a different flavor of ice cream on hand for every day of the week. I mean, we met with your accountant, for crying out loud, it’s not like we’re running off to Vegas for the weekend.” She sighed in exasperation and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms.

Jacob looked at her as he lit the burner under a cast-iron pan, not exactly wary, but perhaps pretending to be. “You know the ice cream thing doesn’t actually bother me, right?”

“Sorry, that wasn’t directed at you, I’m just…”

“Yeah.” He destemmed the greens with a decisive cut and swept them into a colander next to the sink.“If it makes you feel any better, that’s more supportive than what your dad had to say.”

“You went to see my dad?” The color drained from her face, and she swept her eyes over him from head to foot as he went about his preparations. “Well, I don’t see any blood, so I assume it went… well?” Her mouth twisted in a worried grimace.

He leaned against the spur of wall that separated the kitchen from the back hallway, putting his hands in his pockets. “I wanted to give him what assurances I could, man to man.” He used the phrase ironically, canting one eyebrow at Cady as he spoke. “Not that he’d accept any, but it was a gesture of good faith. Maybe he’ll see it that way someday, I don’t know.”

Cady strolled across the kitchen, threading her arms around his waist and studying his somber expression. “You and me against the world, huh?” Her gentle smile was some comfort, at least.

“Not really the marriage you’d envisioned as a little girl, I bet.” The slight tinge of regret in his voice was authentic, but at the same time, a test of her resolve.

She kissed him softly on the temple. “Oh, I might surprise you.”

He didn’t doubt it.

***

Halfway across the county, Walt paced in front of the fireplace with a beer in one hand and the ledger in the other. Clearly, this was part of Jacob Nighthorse’s long con, but he’d raised the stakes so high now that neither of them could make a move without losing something. He’d been livid when Cady first told him this was going on. Every time he said something that made her cry, he felt a black mark go on the permanent record of his fatherhood, but for some reason he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut around her. Martha was right, they were too much alike to get on smoothly.

What had he done wrong as a parent, that his only daughter was about to marry — the thought turned his stomach — a deeply untrustworthy, dishonorable man whom he himself had tried to put behind bars? What was so broken between them that she couldn’t trust his better judgment for once? He supposed he hadn’t shown a lot of trust either, but that was only because he was her father and he knew better. He’d seen Nighthorse’s influence in the county grow over decades, and he couldn’t be persuaded that it was all to some greater good, as Cady seemed to believe.

Still, the fire seemed to taunt him. He knew what the ‘right’ thing to do was: go directly to the FBI with this evidence, regardless of who it would hurt. He also knew that deep down, he wanted to trust Cady's heart, trust that she had chosen someone at least marginally worthy of her. He wanted to believe that people could change, that repentance was possible, that forgiveness was real. And maybe that was what Jacob was asking for, in his spiny, arrogant way. _Destroy me if you think it will protect her_ , his gift seemed to say, _but mind the consequences._

Walt finished his beer and tossed the empty can towards the kitchen, shaking his head as it bounced off the rim of the recycling bin. He tapped the ledger against his thigh. He didn’t feel particularly full up with the milk of human kindness tonight, and he wanted to hang onto this evidence at least until Cady could be persuaded to see reason. So when he found himself dialing Vic’s number, he assumed it was because he wanted someone to bounce ideas off of, someone who shared his suspicions about Nighthorse to an extent.

“Hey, Walt.” She sounded worn, and Walt almost made up some excuse to hang up. “What’s going on?”

He heard himself utter some stilted greeting, but his mind was busy, racing to organize the jumbled emotions this evening had raised. And then there was Vic. It had been six months since she’d come back from a brief and, to her, unwelcome maternity leave. He could see how hard it had hit her, the decision to adopt the kid out. Half the time she showed up to work looking like she’d been up all night crying, and even patient, long-suffering Ruby was getting tired of her slamming doors and drawers all over the office anytime they had a case where a child was involved.

“I was wondering if you… if we could go get that burger you wanted that one time.” He rolled his eyes; the old Walt Longmire charm was pretty rusty these days.

“Yeah?” She paused, and he started composing some cop-out for her to take. “Like, a burger and talk, or… just a burger?”

“Well, could be just a burger, I guess. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He tapped the ledger nervously against the table. “I might, though.”

“Will wonders never cease,” she said, so quietly that Walt suspected it was mostly for herself. “Were you thinking the Red Pony?”

He hadn’t been, but he supposed that was the most convenient for both of them. “Sure.” Things had been chilly between himself and Henry for a while, and he didn’t really look forward to seeing him try to hide his smug satisfaction at Cady’s news, which no doubt had reached him by now. There was really nothing for it, and besides, he’d have Vic there as a distraction.

“Alright, see you when I get there?” Her voice was impatient, but he could hear amusement in it, too.

“Yeah, see you there.” He put the phone back in its cradle and looked again at the fireplace. _Not today_ , he thought to himself, putting the ledger on the mantel, underneath the tea box that once held Martha’s ashes. Not today, but maybe someday. He wasn’t so hard-hearted that he couldn’t even imagine forgiving Jacob Nighthorse for his numerous sins, was he?

He stirred the crumbling logs in the fire with the poker, encouraging them to spread out and cool so he could leave the cabin convinced that it wouldn’t burn down in his absence. Besides, it would take Vic twice as long to get to the Red Pony as it would take him. He put on his jacket, still inexpertly mended from a bullet wound that seemed a very distant memory, and looked around the cabin to see if there was anything he should tidy. _Bed’s made, at least_ , he thought, then wondered why his mind had gone there. Well, stranger things had happened to him today. No telling where the evening would end up.


End file.
